


mermaid motel: room 93

by strawberryfire



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Based off a song, Fix-It, M/M, Post-Canon, first I love you, hook up motel, they fuck but it’s not in detail lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 12:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20209828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberryfire/pseuds/strawberryfire
Summary: max says she hears girls “happy screaming.” but billy hargrove knows a hook up hotel, and he saves it for a special someone.





	mermaid motel: room 93

**Author's Note:**

> songs:   
-mermaid motel by lana del rey  
a few songs off of badlands by halsey

i was sitting on the bed of our usual room. room 93, the second to last on the left. he was running late, which worried me. if his dad found out, he would be a dead man.

but i’m reassured as i hear the familiar hum of billy hargrove’s 1979 chevy camaro. it was a thing of beauty. so was the car.

i hear the car door shut, his boots on the pavement, the opening of the motels creaky front door, his boots down the hallway and the turn of the door knob.

i was half way through a joint when he closed the door behind him and took off his shoes. he sat beside me, his lips immediately finding my neck.

“needy tonight, are we?” i run my fingers through his soft curls.

he hums against my skin, “yeah. i’m annoyed and horny.” he leaves dark hickeys that i know robin will pester me about tomorrow at work.

“perfect combination.” i hold the joint up to his mouth as he pulls away and he takes a hit.

i feel like i’m a shitty 40s noir film or something. it was the secret of it all. the secret of the joints we shared, the kisses and moans in the dark. the way room 93 felt like ours.

for a few moment, neither of us make a move. he’s just looking at me then kissing me then going back to looking into my eyes. i knew that billy was horny and he was annoyed, so you don’t really oppose his wishes. you do as he says. but he wasn’t saying anything.

“need some lovin, pretty boy?” i ask softly, messing with his necklace.

“yes.” he says simply.

now this was something that only i knew; billy hargrove was a brat. he would get whiny whenever he didn’t get his way. it was adorable and irritating in all the right ways.

i take off his denim jacket and toss it on the ground. he, of course, is wearing no shirt.

“wanted to make it easy on me, huh?” i push him back on the bed, the small amount of the joint left in his mouth.

“yeah, maybe.” he blows out the smoke and his breath smells like cherries.

i take off my shirt and he laughs a little, “god you’re such a prep. was that a ralph lauren polo?”

“you love it, sunshine.” i pull down my khaki pants and throw them next to his jacket on the ground.

“i do, lavender.”

i still wasn’t sure how we got these nicknames for each other. he told me i smelled like lavender, which was the scent of my freaking laundry detergent. not my expensive ass calvin klein obsession cologne.

i kiss down his body and i’m quickly reminded as to why i call him sunshine; because he is. he’s california as a person. he always tastes like cherries and smells like caramel.

he runs his fingers in my hair, “yknow we could live in this shitty motel. we could fuck whenever.”

he’s rock hard when i peel off his skin tight jeans and he moans as soon as the contact is taken away.

“yeah, we could, but i’m broke.”

he takes off my boxers, “so? sure you can do some sweet talkin.”

“hmm i can only sweet talk you, baby.”

billy has his hands all over me, pulling me close, his lips against mine, “hmm you’re right.”

the crackle of electricity from the neon sign and the creak of the window shutters mixes with our breathing, our hearts beating in sync.

he’s grinding against my thrusts, his soft whimpers in my ear. his arms around my neck, the smell of his cologne and hairspray swimming around, our minds hazy and eyes glazed over. the risk of it all, the thrill of it and the rush billy hargrove gives me. we’re only happy pressed together like this, high off the shitty weed. only the moonlight and the glow of the blue neon lights fill the room.

the feeling of this, the nights with him were a trip to heaven. his neediness, the way he’s so touchy. i never believed in religion until my first night with him.

“steve.” he moans out, his nails in my back as i grip his hips, going deeper.

we are both so fucked up. both so hurt and traumatized and he doesn’t even know about the upside down.

but he’s mine and i’m his. the girls he has, they mean nothing and we know that. because these nights are unforgettable and they’re the happy colored memories in our gray realities.

“you’re perfect, billy.” i breathe out into his neck, my hands on his face.

his sparkly blues meet mine. our breathing is getting quicker, my thrusts getting faster. he looks so innocent, his pupils blown wide and lips swollen from all the kissing.

“so are you.” he whimpers and tilts his head back. his eyes are closing, “don’t stop, please.”

i put my hand to his throat and he explodes, the noises he makes are heavenly. spilling over the edge onto his stomach, he pants and kisses me, soft and lovingly.

i hover over him, our eyes locked. we don’t say a word, there’s no need to.

the way we both come down from our highs at the same time, the slowness of breath and the calmness of room 93.

i flop beside him and he giggles, “you are god, harrington.”

“am i?” i turn on my side and play with his hair. he turns his head to face me.

“yeah, i’m certain.”

the morning light starts to pour in and this was the worst part.

billy huffs and buries his face in my neck, “god, fuck the sun.”

“yeah…” i pull him close and we stay there, silent.

“i have to go to work, baby.” i say softly after a few minutes.

his voice cracks, “no.”

i look at the clock and it reads 8:57am.

i call robin, telling her i have a migraine, which was our code for i can’t leave my baby’s arms, not today.

the sun goes away as quickly as it came and it starts to snow.

i put us both in sweaters, then get under the covers. billy puts his head on my chest, one hand over my heart, the other playing with my hair.

his love is a fever and i’m cold when he leaves. he’s made of gold, even with his mistakes in the walls of his room at home. oh, if they could talk.

i didn’t mind the way his touch lingered on my body or his kiss on my lips. i didn’t mind the way that when i was at work and i tasted caramel, it wasn’t the ice cream, it was him. i didn’t care that he clouded my mind and sometimes i couldn’t think straight.

i didn’t mind laying here in silence, watching the snow blanket his 1979 chevy camero and my 1981 bmw, parked side by side in the worn down parking lot outside the worn out motel.

robin thinks i’m insane for falling for the asshole on cherry lane, but that’s the beauty of this is that she is the only one that knows about my love for the beauty that lived on cherry lane in a house full of nightmares. she never believes my stories of making billy weak at the knees, she says he walks like he’s a god and i couldn’t do something like that.

“hey steve, can i tell you something?” billy asks, his voice soft.

“yes, anything.”

he sits up, his face illuminated by the sunlight.

“i love you.”

he says it with no hesitation, no stutter. he says it matter of factly.

i can’t help the grin on my face, “i love you, too.”

i look at the time. the digital clock reads 09:03.

“it’s 9:03.” i say.

“yeah…? what does that have to do with anything, ya idiot?” billy giggles.

“it’s september ninth, 9:03 am. in our room. room 93. and you just told me you love me.”

“so 93 is our lucky number?” billy smiles ear to ear, laying back down beside me.

“yeah.” i kiss him and rest my forehead against his, “yeah, i think it is.”


End file.
